Ian McKellen On Stage at The Harold Pinter Theatre

It’s quite a relief that, having been pipped to the post in securing tickets for Ian McKellen’s 80^th birthday celebratory tour, which started in February, I finally got to see the great man at the beginning of his limited season at The Harold Pinter Theatre.  No wonder the whole event has been a complete sell-out, as his almost three-hour solo show is an absolute delight.

This may be a celebration of reaching the grand old age of eighty, but it would be difficult to find anyone less like an octogenarian. He is a wonderful advert for Pilates classes, which he apparently attends twice a week and for keeping his mind and body active by continuing to work.  Upright and sprightly with an astonishing memory for special events in his life, favourite poems and excerpts from his many, many performances, whatever keeps Sir Ian McKellen up to speed should be bottled.

Whilst the great man moves effortlessly across his beloved stage, his audience sit forward in their seats, secure in the knowledge that this most beloved of our great actors will entertain and delight.  This he does exquisitely, infusing the recollections of his life in the theatre so far, with a ready wit and the most perfect timing. 

The show starts in darkness and the voice of Gandalf, McKellen’s most iconic screen role, stating ‘You cannot pass’.  Then the lights come up and we’re taken deep into Middle Earth, whilst he clutches a well-worn copy of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.  We’re then taken back in time to the start of his love affair with the theatre.  From a childhood visit to see Peter Pan, to enjoying Ivor Novello’s  King’s Rhapsody, where he admits to having his first erection whilst sitting in the Dress Circle.  Obviously, this isn’t the only reference to his homosexuality.  He treats us to honest glimpses of various battles he faced against homophobia and how finally coming out took a huge weight off his shoulders. 

Moving from one memory to another is seamlessly done by searching through the label infested trunk (each theatre visited on the tour has its own sticker) to unearth a prop or book.  And each memory is accompanied by a witty anecdote concerning family, friends and fellow actors.

Whilst the first half is semi-autobiographical, the second concentrates on McKellen’s homage to Shakespeare.  Enlisting help from the audience, he invites us to shout out the name of the bard’s entire catalogue.  The relevant play is then found in the trunk and is accompanied by either a witty remark – ‘I haven’t actually read this one’ – or a speech.

If this all sounds like luvvie self-indulgence, it really isn’t that at all.  Instead it’s an unpretentious love letter to the theatre, told with warmth and openness, leaving us in no doubt that Sir Ian is still a Lancashire lad at heart, who is never more at home than when entertaining an audience.  His long-time collaborator, Sean Matthias is his Director and between them they have produced something akin to an immersive cosy chat, with seemingly no barriers between actor and audience. 

In case you’re in any doubt, I loved it.

Hansard at The Lyttleton

A critic on a Radio 4 Arts programme when asked to give her views on Hansard, the first play by the actor Simon Woods, started by criticising The National Theatre.  How was it that a first-time playwright and an Old Etonian to boot, was able to stage his play with two top actors in the large Lyttleton Theatre?  After all, our great theatrical institution is supposed to be operating a policy of diversity and Hansard, with its cast of two middle-class white actors, is most surely aimed at white middle-aged, middle-class Caucasians. 

I took exception to this because as far as I am aware The National, under the auspices of Rufus Norris, has certainly not abandoned their plan to produce plays to appeal to the whole of our society.  But in so doing, wouldn’t it be wrong for them to suddenly preclude anything that might relate to the audience this person criticised for enjoying the play on the night she went? 

Having got that little gripe off my chest, I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed Hansard, thanks in no small measure to the performances by Lindsay Duncan and Alex Jennings.  Their verbal jousting is timed and executed to perfection, and what is essentially a barrage of sarcasm is turned into brilliantly witty remarks.  It is 1988 and the couple’s bickering starts on Robin Hesketh’s return home from taking part in Any Questions the night before.  Diana, his wife of thirty years, is still in her dressing gown in their Aga filled Oxfordshire country home and metaphorically armed and ready for letting him know her thoughts on the programme and the fact that he is all for Section 28, the controversial part of that year’s Local Government Act that prohibited local authorities from ‘promoting’ homosexuality.  What doesn’t help his cause is that this suave, yes, you’ve guessed it, Old Etonian Tory MP, has married a Labour voter.  And her anger at his stance on said Section 28 is exacerbated by her suspicion that he is having an affair. Added to this arsenal is her scorn for her husband’s privileged background, admiration for Maggie Thatcher and lack of any artistic temperament.

Meanwhile Robin criticises his wife’s drinking habits, laziness and left-wing sensibilities.  Does she not remember that he has asked friends over for lunch to celebrate his birthday?  One wonders why they ever married in the first place.  Except that underneath all the scathing banter is the hint that there was and maybe still is love between them.  The problem is that there is a gigantic elephant in the room, concerning their son, which has affected them both so very deeply. They share their own unspoken guilt regarding his death and it’s only once this is aired that any latent fondness is allowed to creep back into their relationship.

Such is the depth of Duncan and Jennings’s acting ability that they’re both able to make their seemingly unlikeable characters eventually sympathetic.  Underneath Robin’s air of superiority and misogynistic entitlement lies a vulnerable, emotionally flawed man.  Whilst Diana, following the loss of her son, has spent too much time alone, brooding, drinking and pouring out all her frustrations at her husband when he eventually returns home. 

The final moments of the play when the grief they share is unlocked is devastating and in such sharp contrast to the earlier caustic hilarity.

It’s true that there are a few structural flaws in Hansard, but that has also been the case in certain other productions by more experienced playwrights that have been shown at The National.  And, despite the odd criticism, Simon Woods has penned 90 minutes worth of entertaining drama, using two actors at the top of their game who give superb performances under the expert direction of Simon Godwin.

A Very Expensive Poison at The Old Vic

There’s no doubting Lucy Prebble’s capacity for weaving something very different out of a story.  She did it with Enron and has now brought her interpretation of the poisoning of Russian émigré Alexander Litvinenko to The Old Vic stage.  Not for her a straight forward narrative, instead A Very Expensive Poison (also the title of Luke Harding’s book on which the play is based) has more than its fair share of black humour, singing, dancing ….. and puppetry!  Bearing in mind the terrible consequences of dying from a dose of polonium 210 planted in a cup of tea, it’s no bad thing that she’s highlighted the bungling nature of those responsible and has Vladimir Putin (or as he's billed in the programme President and played by the excellent Reece Shearsmith) as the unreliable narrator in the second half.  Without this, the story would be very depressing indeed.  And the different tones she uses to explain what happened enhances rather than diminishes Britain’s shoddy political stance.  Keen not to upset the apple cart with regard to our Russian ties, it took more than eight years for the story to come to light and a public enquiry to be conducted.

The first half is mostly seen through the eyes of Marina Litvinenko, Alexander’s wife, and brings us up to speed on the background of how her husband, a former detective with Russia’s FSB, died in a London hospital in 2006.  The pair of them had fled to Britain following Alexander’s expose of the links between organised crime and the Russian government, but, as we all know, that particular country eventually catches up with those who dare to criticise.  The play highlights the love the couple had for one another and Marina’s tireless determination to make the truth known about his untimely death.

The entire cast are excellent.  None more so than MyAnna Buring as Marina and Tom Brooke as Alexander.  Their touching relationship contrasts sharply with the disingenuous Russian leader who demands revenge at all costs, his incompetent assassins and the attempt at a cover-up by the British.  Whilst the play, because of all the various techniques used, is rather lacking in dramatic force, there are some sit up and take notice moments, not least when we’re played a recording of Theresa May, our then Home Secretary.  She couldn’t have been more evasive if she tried.  Most of the Russian characters are brash, none more so than Peter Polycarpou’s Boris Berezovsky.  He makes Boris Johnson look shy and retiring.  Always the swaggerer, the oligarch even breaks into song in a swanky Mayfair restaurant and struts his stuff on the dance floor.

Prebble’s genre busting play is brilliantly brought to life by the skill and imagination of Designer Tom Scutt.  His complex set smoothly transforms from hospital room to the Litvinenko’s Russian apartment, airport check in to laboratory.  Meanwhile Director John Crowley manages to turn the multiple locations and characters into a cohesive whole.  At 2hrs 40 min, the play is a little lengthy and didn’t always hold my attention, but I applaud the young playwright’s ingenuity.

Appropriate at The Donmar

Appropriate, now running at The Donmar, poses quite a logistical nightmare for the Stage Management team in general and the Props person in particular, for the stage is literally knee deep in paraphernalia when the play opens.  The piles of furniture, boxes and general detritus belong to the dead patriarch of the feuding Lafayette family, who have gathered together to try and sort it all out.  So, just another American family drama?  Actually, no, because black American playwright, Branden Jacobs-Jenkin’s bitterly funny play, cast entirely with white actors, has racism at its heart.

The family’s late, reclusive father has allowed the once grand mansion in Arkansas to fall into disrepair and everything has to be cleared before the mortgage company claims the property.  Bit by bit we’re privy to the fact the house sits in the middle of an old plantation and those slaves unfortunate enough to have worked there, are buried in the grounds, following various lynchings, which have been recorded in an old photo album.  Not the most pleasant of artifacts to be uncovered.  Was dear papa racist and perhaps anti Semitic into the bargain?  Or even more unsettling, a member of the Ku Klux Klan?  This extremely upsetting tome elicits differing reactions from each family member, with newly divorced and bitter Toni (the brilliant Monica Dolan in blistering formidable form) taking the defensive stance.  Her father’s views were and still are not to be questioned. Meanwhile, the young granddaughter, Cassie (Isabella Pappas) is keen to pop the pictures on Instagram, and once it emerges that they might be worth a ton of money, the majority of the family change their horror to excitement.

The remaining members of the clan comprise, Cassie’s father Bo Lafayette (the excellent Steven Mackintosh), her young brother Ainsley, Jewish mother, Rachael (Jaimi Barbakoff), Uncle Franz (Edward Hogg), his very young, ‘crystal waving’ girlfriend River (Tafline Steen) and Toni’s son Rhys (Charles Furness).  Led by Toni’s uncompromising acidic and foul tongued tirades, the siblings are continually at each other’s throats.  Bo, her middle brother is criticised for his insatiable thirst for money, whilst Franz, the youngest, is never allowed to forget his addiction problems and predilection for girls who are just that little bit too young.

Everyone plays their part perfectly and Jacobs-Jenkins, although pushing the boundaries with his dialogue, brings a subtle approach to the racism inherent in the Lafayette’s past.  Rather than labour his grievances over the black people’s treatment at the hand of white slave owners, he chooses to mock this middle-class, white family’s self-pitying greed.

Added to all this is a gothic thriller aspect, suggesting that the house is inhabited by the ghosts of the dead slaves.  Designer, Fly Davis, has not only created the perfect crumbling old homestead, but also the sense that spirits are lurking within its old walls.  Cue plenty of sound effects and jumpy moments!

This is Ola Ince’s debut as director at The Donmar and she helps to ensure that the playwright’s sly humour is never underplayed, we occasionally get the impression we’ve stepped into a ghost story and, importantly, enjoy a play that entertains and imparts a strong message.  I’m sure this is the first of many Donmar productions to have her name in the programme.